


locking lips

by FujiRouge



Series: Of Greens and Gold [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bullying, Co-Dependency, Kissing, M/M, Obsession, Touch-Starved, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26140309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FujiRouge/pseuds/FujiRouge
Summary: Harry lets Tom kiss him every time, it's starting to become an ordinary thing between them. Although the kisses starts to become something Harry can't handle.A sequel to cracking lips
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Series: Of Greens and Gold [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798438
Comments: 8
Kudos: 384





	locking lips

It took a while to getting used to. 

Now that Harry and Tom confirmed their newfound friendship– thinking about it, let alone say it from his mouth, felt kind of weird.

Because never in a million years did he expect he'd be friends with the most Slytherin student in Hogwarts, not to mention the company Tom usually gathered weren't exactly thrilled by Harry's presence and that was putting it mildly.

They glared at the sight of him, some gave him curious stares while others downright ignore him, as if staring at Harry's eyes could turn them to stone.

Now that everyone seemed to know about Tom and Harry's relationship, the heir of Slytherin befriending a nobody and a Gryffindor of all people – rumors skyrocketed around the school. 

Most students seemed to believe Harry was just a lackey that Tom liked showing off. Another rumor Harry heard where he was Tom's secret relative– this one almost brought a laugh from Harry.

But there was this one rumor Harry avoided hearing– the one in which people thought Harry and Tom were actually dating. Thankfully, people scoffed at the idea, saying how Tom's standards were probably too high for someone like Harry to reach and yeah, Harry would've agreed with them.

If only Tom hadn't kissed him in that corridor, Harry wouldn't have doubts by now.

Because after that incident, Harry never tried bringing it up again. He wasn't good with confrontational, when faced with Tom, he was even ten times worst.

  
\---

  
"You're not gonna eat? It's almost lunch."

Harry barely made a move, too lazy to even raise a finger, he laid on the earthly ground using his diary and sketchpad as a makeshift pillow, grass tickling his nose. "I'm not hungry," he said dismissively.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his wrist, Harry opened his eyes, noticing how Tom's long fingers engulfed around his tiny wrist, almost caging it in a way. "You should, someone as thin as you could easily break," Tom said, voice oddly serious. 

Harry snatched his hand away then turned around, muttering. "Really, Tom, I'm fine. You should go eat yourself."

He didn't hear movements of someone standing up to leave, instead he heard Tom settle down beside him on the tree, the warm radiating from the taller boy's body–they were merely inches apart from each other, Harry considered moving away but thought better of it.

He felt a tug from under his head– Tom was pulling the sketchpad out. "Do you mind if I could see?"

 _Why_ , he wanted to ask.

After losing his diary, Harry had grown possessive of it, he was wary to writing it in public places and mostly kept it inside the trunk of his room. 

A minute passed, Harry complied and let Tom pull it out of from under his head. Anxious, he tried to relax by closing his eyes again, trying to listen to the sounds of humid warm blowing through the long grass and shaking waves, but his ears stubbornly focused to Tom's fingers lifting through the papers of his sketchbook. 

A stir of embarrassment crawled in his stomach– he shouldn't care much of someone's opinion.

But he did, he wanted to know Tom's opinion.

So lifting himself up, he slowly turned to Tom. "So– what do you think?" He asked, hands fidgeting on his robs.

Tom hummed for a moment, his lashes were fluttered down as his eyes scanned every edge of the paper. "Good," he said.

That single word made Harry relaxed, just a bit. 

"Is there anything you can do?" Harry questioned. "I mean– I barely know anything about you and... You know so much about me already."

 _And that was unfair_ , he didn't say but somehow, by the look of Tom's face, he must've caught it.

"I can cook," Tom announced. "Really well, I might add. Not just omelette or anything simple, I'm very good at making up my own recipes too. Experimenting and adding my own little twist to it."

"Is that why you're so good at Potions? My mom did say that potions were a lot like cooking."

"Yes, well it is."

"Who taught you?"

There was a sudden edge to his face before it quickly passed, lasting for a single heartbeat. "I taught myself," he replied, short and curt.

Harry knew enough not to question any further. 

Suddenly, Tom said. "You're doing it again."

Harry's brows pinched. "Doing what?"

"Biting your lips, I've told you already, haven't I?" He turned to him, his gaze darting at his lips. "It's a bad habit. Not to mention _distracting_."

"Distracting? How is it–" Harry stopped. Oh.

He settled to bitting the inside of his cheek.

  
\--

_He bit his lips, tore the skin, licked the blood. Long nails digging through the rough surface of his palm, the mildness of pain wasn't enough to sear into the loud thick voice ramming inside his head._

_The voice that was screaming, yelling that the one thing that gave him comfort was gone. The diary that contained his thoughts, his emotions, his heart all poured into the pages, bled into them by his own tear-stained fingertips._

_Idiot, idiot, idiot, the voice repeated._

_Even Draco's ruthless teasing wasn't enough to distract him._

_Really, when was he ever enough?_

\--

"Harry, can you grab that book for me?" 

Dante grabbed it first and swiftly handed it to Tom with a polite smile– the kind of smile Harry was used to and sometimes melted by the sight alone, Tom stared at the book being handed to him then smiled, saying. "Thank you, Venture."

Their fingers touched, Harry nearly missed the slight twitch from Tom's lips, a clear indication of disgust flashing for a split second before indifference masked his expression again. 

Dante didn't seem to notice, Tom's faux smile fooled her enough to believe that they were on somewhat good terms.

She totally missed the way Tom's hand, the one where their fingertips touched, was hidden under the table and began rubbing it thoroughly on the fabric of his robs.

  
\--

  
_"My diary, I was so stupid Dante– I was–"_

_"Shh, Harry. It's alright, I'll help you find it, okay? I will." Her voice was low and filled with pity._

_The circular rubs on his back didn't do much help, but Harry would prefer having this over nothing_.

  
\--

"Why do you dislike Dante?"

"Who?" Tom raised a brow.

Irritation spiked his skin, Harry peered at him, voice turning sharp. "Dante Venture. My friend, the one you're so rude to for no apparent reason? Ring any bells?"

"Oh her?" Boredom traced his features, flipping through the textbook with a grace of his fingers. "I never recalled being rude to her? Perhaps you should clear up the fog from your glasses, Harry."

"No– my glasses are fine, thank you," he gritted his teeth. " But I saw you– you're disgusted by her. _You hate her_."

"Do I?"

" _Yes, you do_!" his previous plan of trying to talk things out as calmly as possible was thoroughly thrown out the window. He flinched when Tom stood up from his chair.

Tom's extensive height and broader figure made him stare down at Harry, a wolf sizing up a rabbit. A certain coldness spread on his eyes. Harry bit down the urge to duck and hide, the instinctual fear of getting attacked wormed in his ribs. "What's your problem? Why are you so angry?" He asked calmly. "Tell me, Tom, so maybe we can fix it together?"

"Fix it?" Tom suddenly leaned closer. "Then stop talking to her."

"You– what?" 

"Stop talking to her, in fact, don't even look at her, don't even say her name, don't breath in the same room as her–"

"Are you even hearing yourself!?" Harry yelled, the sound of exasperation clear as day. "Am I supposed to revolve my life around you?"

"Yes! Don't think about anyone, think of me, look at me, only me–" he kept mumbling phrases, sounding more intelligible as it goes. "Just me, Harry," it was almost like he was begging.

Firm hands grabbed his shoulders, the weight of them nearly made Harry's knees buckle. "You want to help, right?" He asked, the black iris in his eyes dilating.

Reluctant, Harry nodded.

"Then stay still."

It was the only warning he got before soft lips sealed the deal.

  
\---

_Harry's sanity must have disappeared alongside the diary because he kept seeing– or perhaps imagining Tom Riddle staring at him, his trademark look of cold difference watching him with still precision._

_Was he just hallucinating all this? Did he finally went insane?_

_He whirled his head behind to find Tom had turned around, facing his seatmate as he spoke to him._

_Yeah. Definitely crazy._

  
\--

  
"What's wrong with you!"

Harry pushed him away, clutching his chest as he felt his heartbeat go into a constant rhythm, it echoed loudly through his ears. "You said you wanted to be friends! What happened to that? This isn't– this isn't how friendship works, Tom. You can't just kiss me because you– you want to. You can't."

"It's just a kiss, Harry," Tom had the nerve to roll his eyes, "I thought you wanted to fix the problem?"

"Why is kissing me even gonna solve anything?"

With a soft cradle to his chin, his thumb caressing it with an almost featherlight touch, Tom watched his lips breath in and breath out, something predatory lurking in his eyes. "I have a feeling it will," he murmured hazily.

Harry stared up at Tom, then pondered hard. He doesn't think he could say a word, not when his throat was dry and his brain wrecked up answers if doing Tom's obscene request was gonna change anything, for better or worst.

So instead of replying, Harry just closed his eyes.

Soon, he felt Tom's face gradually drew closer, warm breath blowing his lips before he felt a familiar softness brushing.

He was gently pushed to the desk, Harry sat at the top and kept his hands still to his sides, drawing in his fingers to the fabric of his trousers. The large hands glided back to his shoulders and as they kissed, they only dropped down further to his hips, gripping them tightly.

Harry touched the hands around his hips, letting out a small whine of protest– he didn't like the feeling of this. Fast, fast, everything was fast– Tom's moving lips, his wandering hands, his knee that was pressing almost dangerously close to his crotch.

When Tom's lips moved to his neck.

Harry squirmed, leaning away from Tom's arms that was caging him.

"I– you got what you wanted, right?" Harry said, throat suddenly dry. "You said it'll work. So are you still angry?"

Tom wasn't paying attention, his expression inscrutable– he kept staring at Harry's lips.

Annoyed, Harry called in a much louder tone. "Tom! Are you even listening?"

"Let's do that again."

"Kissing?"

"Yes. It actually made me better."

"Better?" Harry squinted at him, dubious. "But how?"

"The anger is gone now. Mostly at least."

"...so you're not mad anymore?" Harry questioned. "We're still friends?"

"Of course, as long as you want to, Harry." 

Harry bit his lips, brows knitted together as he slowly grabbed his composure, thinking of what to say next. "I don't mind kissing–as long as it's all you do. Okay?"

Tom fixed the glasses that messily hung Harry's nose, letting out a mild smile of content. "If that's what you want, then alright."

  
\--

  
_"He's name is Jafaar."_

_You shouldn't be speaking to me, Harry wanted to say._

_"He's saying how he ate a mouse yesterday."_

_You shouldn't see me, he gripped his mouth tight._

_Harry left._

_The sketchpad felt heavy in his hand. Legs shaky as he took one step, two step, three step..._

_"I only wanted to talk, perhaps even be friends?"_

_Friends._

_It's better to destroy the hope before it destroyed him._

\--

  
This was new thing between Harry and Tom.

Kissing. 

Tom did it every time they were alone, inside the Room of Requirements, behind the large shelves of the library, under the shade of a tree or when they were alone in an empty corridor. 

The disgust and unknown anger Tom was harbouring for Dante was still there, only this time, it was much more subsided and kept hidden under lock and key. Tom's fake kindness and smile was less sharper now around Dante– but Harry was still confused for why he hated her.

Harry had grown familiar to Tom's lips, the way he moved and dominated his mouth, even using his tongue, pushing inside Harry's mouth and licking his teeth. Thankfully, Tom no longer pinned him to the wall nor roughly pushed him to the desk, realizing how much it brought discomfort from Harry.

Tom would use his hand to grip Harry's chin, angling it to what he favored, as for the other– it was perfectly wrapped around Harry's wrist. At times when Tom was trying to control himself from taking things further, he'd gripped it tighter until Harry would find angry red tracks on his skin.

But there were those moments that if you weren't looking, you'd missed it with a blink of an eye– the times where Harry dozed off and felt warmness pressing on his temple, only to relax when he realized it was just Tom.

Those small affections that Harry considered as small miracles– he treasured them the most.

Tom holding Harry's hand from under the table, giving it a short squeeze, tracing his finger around the curves of Harry's knuckles and to the small spaces of his fingers.

Tom brushing a hair out of Harry's eyes and mouth, frowning in a stern manner as he lectured him to be more tidy.

Those rare and soft smiles Tom gave whenever Harry said something amusing or stupid. 

Those were the times where Harry felt special. 

Harry never really bothered to initiate a kiss because it mostly escalated to Tom wanting more. 

Because for Tom, it seemed like it was never enough.

  
-

_He kissed him._

_Tom had kissed him._

_Gently, He raised a hand to touch his lips while the other curled around the spine of his diary, the thickness around his hand brought a sense of relief and familiarity to him, making him realize how much he missed having his diary back again._

_Blood, his lips were bleeding– immediately, his mind drifted back to teeth scraping his lips, hands that gripped his hands and hips so mean, Tom's touches were rough and hard, like scraping your hand on a dry wall or lifting a heavy brick. Despite how rough his actions were, Tom's lips felt incredibly soft, moving against Harry's chapped ones._

_Harry was so busy not looking directly at Tom's face that with a gasp, he was caught off guard when a hand gripped his wrist, pulling him closer and in those moments, for the briefest seconds, he saw it– he saw Tom's eyes._

_His eyes were dark, dark, dark._

_Dark as night._

  
\---

"So the rumors are true?" Lucius said once Tom disappeared from behind the large shelves. "You and Tom are romantically together now?"

"What? I– no, we're not!"

Someone shushed them. A Ravenclaw student eyed them sharply from within a table away. Harry blushed and nodded apologetically, Lucius simply continued, "So? Is there a reason why you're keeping it a secret?"

Harry avoided the question, only stating in a hushed tone. "We're not together, we're simply friends."

"Then either someone casted a False Memory Charm on me or I simply hallucinated the whole scenario with Tom grabbing you by the chin and basically eating your mouth out like a starved wolf– is he a good kisser as the girls said?"

"I– uh..." Harry blushed, hands fidgeting. "He's not bad."

"Not bad?" Lucius stifled a laugh. "If Tom heard you right now, he'd assume you were insulting him. So what then? You two are just sleeping together? Purely physical?"

"No!" Harry didn't even want to imagine that. "He's... We just kiss each other."

"From what I seen, that was a full on make-out session," Lucius narrowed his gray eyes, observing him speculatively. "So you're telling me that you two don't sleep together, you don't have a romantic relationship yet you make out with each other and still say you're only friends?"

"I..." Words immediately died out from his mouth, whatever he planned to say was thrown out the window and now, his mouth gaped in a way that made him look stupid, "...yes?" He winced at how unsure he sounded.

Lucius paused to give him a silent look, the one where he clearly judged Harry's brain or lack thereof– they didn't talk anymore, not when Tom was already approaching.

The question remained in his head as the day bled into nightfall.

\--

_"You must have noticed, haven't you?"_

_Harry halted his steps, "Notice what?"_

_Lucius gave him a firm look, a perfect brow raised questionably, "How much he showers you with attention, like a blind man who only saw the light for the first time, how he can't seem to look at anything but you. Odd, don't you think?"_

_It was, but he kept his mouth tightly shut._

_"I was curious. For someone like Tom, who's eyes were captured by you, I wanted to know what he sees in you yet no matter how much I observe, no matter how much I change my angle, the only thing I can see you is you; unremarkable, untalented, uninteresting."_

_He's right._

_"Tom doesn't like talking about you, you seemed to have driven him mad. You're awfully brave, avoiding him just like that, no one has ever done that to him before. Someone who simply walks away."_

_"Is there something you want?"_

_When he was given no direct answer, only a simple snicker of amusement and a smirk that reminded him all too much of another Malfoy, Harry decided to just leave._

_It was then, Lucius asked, "Tell me, Harry, do you see him as much as he sees you?"_

_The question spiralled into his head as he continued to walk and walk and walk._

\---

  
"Tom, seriously, I can't–" With a hand on his chest, Harry pushed him back as he jerked his head away, his shoulders rising heavily as he breathed for air. "You need to slow down. I can't keep up with you!"

Fingers curled around his chin again, tilting his head up to look at Tom– who looked to be breathless as Harry was, with his unkempt hair and mouth pursed open, exhaling in and out, his tranced-like gaze glued at Harry's. "It makes me curious, Harry Potter," his voice was deep and chilling that shivers ran up his spine. "That no matter what, I can't seem to get enough of you. I guess I'm simply greedy like that."

The fingers around his chin slowly brushed down towards his neck, pinching at his swallowing Adam's apple with sudden interest. Harry jolted in surprise when Tom began to nibble at his ear. "Could you spoil me a bit more?" He drawled.

"What are you gonna do?" Harry asked carefully before something warm draped under his clothes as they gripped his hips, nails scraping his delicate skin to which he winced.

"Spoil me a little, Harry."

His teeth bit hard. Harry clutched Tom's shoulders, a whimper of pain as he felt a tongue licking at the shell of his ear. 

Then Lucius words sprang. 

This wasn't... 

Harry didn't want this. He didn't want to be kissed, to have his mouth explored by someone's tongue, hands that wandered down to the spots that were too fragile to be touched– he didn't want this.

He only did it because Tom wanted it.

He just wanted a friend.

This was much more than Harry bargained for– too much. Harry was giving way too much. 

"Harry?" Tom leaned back, staring at Harry with a look of confusion.

"Tom–" Harry gazed at him. "I think we need to talk."

  
\---

_"We should talk."_

_Harry considered just walking, to simply not turn back and kept his face forward, but there was something about Tom's voice that sounded desperate, as if he was whispering don't go stay stay stay–_

_So he stayed._

_"Let me explain. I'll tell you what you know."_

_Whirling his head back to gaze at Tom._

_The expression he was portraying, the raw frustration and anticipating what Harry would say–_

_What do you want from me?_

_Why are you still waiting?_

_Harry nodded, "Okay."_

_Do you really see me?_

\---

_"You're not weird."_

_Harry blinked, feeling exposed by how Tom's gaze was fixated on his– the ambers from the fire swirled around his eyes, making them look glassy, glowing, alive._

_"You're you."_

_And Harry smiled, gazing back._

\---

"We need space, Tom– I need space. You're too...obsessed. I don't want this."

"Don't want what? _Me_?" He glowered, voice morphing into anger. "I thought you wanted–"

"I do want you! Just not this way–" The hands that gripped his body, he grabbed them and pushed them back to Tom. "I'm confused about what our relationship is. You kiss me, grab me, touch me in so many ways but to everyone, we're just friends."

"Do you want me to stop?" 

Somehow, his tone got even darker, there was no anger, just silent coldness. Harry felt like he was standing on thin ice by how much that stare struck a knife to his chest.

"What I want is for us to decide what we really want, tell me, Tom– is there a reason why you're doing this? Are you– do you like me?"

"I do."

The lack of hesitance in his reply brought a momentary stop to Harry. _Really_?

"Do you want to start a relationship with me? Tell everyone we're together?"

Now, there was a pause.

"See? We're both confused, I think we need time to spend out of each other's company–"

"And you?" Tom cut in. "Do you like me back?"

Harry blinked in surprise by the same question being thrown back against him. "Depends on what kind of like you're talking about–"

"Do you like me enough to want to touch me–" He was grabbing his wrist again, placing Harry's hand on the line of Tom's neck, his fingertips grazing on the juncture of his neck, an intimate spot to touch someone. "In ways only you can?" He whispered.

The memories of temple kisses and handholding came flooding his senses.

Harry did want to touch Tom.

Just not the way Tom wanted.

And with that, Harry pulled his hand back, staring at Tom's unbuttoned collar, his broad shoulders, the tip of his jaw– but not his eyes. He doesn't know what he'll do if he looked.

"You're too fast for me, Tom."

And he left.

\--

"What in the blazes did you do to Tom, again?" 

"I didn't do anything... We just had a small fight."

"Really?" Lucius squinted at him, following him from behind as they walked up to a a flight of stairs. "A small fight? Have you seen Tom's expression earlier? He looked like he was ready to throttle Slughorn and kill everyone else in the room."

"Okay.." Harry breathed. "I told him we should give each other some space."

"So that's why you two aren't talking–" Lucius said, nodding. "And that explains his murderous aura, you told him to fuck off–"

Hearing Lucius say something inelegant felt really weird but he appeared to be relaxed around him now. It took a while for the pureblood to accept Harry's presence, he had to suffer from constant slurs and disgusted sneers, the only reason Lucius never tried to jinx Harry was because it would push Tom's bad side.

"I didn't tell him to back off! I just said that we needed some time alone. Away from each other."

"And how much space do you exactly need? No offense, Potter, but without Tom– the people who bullied you would come back and try hurt you again, now that your bodyguard is nowhere to be seen."

"I'll handle it," was his only reply.

Lucius rolled his eyes, muttering out something along the lines of Harry's idiocy and lack of preservation.

\--

  
At Monday, someone stole Harry's shoes.

\---

  
At Wednesday, one of Harry's classmates, a Gryffindor student got his feet broken from a so-called accident, he claimed it to be an accident but he seemed so utterly terrified to be that case.

  
\--

  
Friday arrived, no one has yet to hurt him. It felt too quiet and peaceful– this was the life of Hogwarts Harry had hoped of having from the start.

No one can see him, which meant no one can hurt him.

  
\--

  
A new week has started. Was it always this quiet?

\---

Harry drew pictures. His fingerprints was stained with charcoal, the scent of lead and parchment following him everywhere. 

He looked at the newer drawings inside the diary.

A few landscapes, some portraits from his friends which were only two– Dante and surprisingly, Lucius, no matter how much the pureblood insulted him, Harry had somewhat grown fond of him.

He really hated how his hand would move on its own and draw a familiar head shape, the wavy hair and condescending smirk– it was like instinct told him to do it.

He stared at Tom's face inside the thin layer of paper.

Harry had missed him terribly. 

Tom avoided him– he didn't spare a glance whenever they passed by each other at the hallways, no more long prolonged stares inside the classroom– and Harry knew this because he wasn't feeling a prickled sensation of scrutiny.

Like they weren't even friends.

Harry wasn't mad, of course not, he was the one who started this.

The distance was hard, the quiet was strange, the fact that he couldn't reach someone– anyone, beside him wasn't the worst part, it was how much his hands draped over a cold spot and realize how truly empty it was.

But at the same time, Harry was grateful for it, because without it, he understood–

How much he really needed Tom. Is this what Tom felt? Did he touched Harry to remind himself of how much he needed him? Was it a reminder that Harry was still there and he was still his and he was still looking at him, only at him– _please, don't look away_

He remembered an ache he felt from just moments ago in class, when his head suddenly whirled around to find that no eyes were staring at him back.

Harry knew, this kind of ache was the type he would never forget.

\---

"What is he saying?"

Tom was silence for a while.

Harry was sitting on the grass, watching a snake communicate with Tom, his small beady eyes flickering towards him before once again turning back to Tom. The lazy waves and brushes of winds made the silence a lot more tolerable, Harry was thankful for that.

He waited. 

And then finally, a response: "He said you looked weak enough to eat."

Harry turned to the snake, rather than being offended, he merely smiled, "I don't think I'll be able to fit your stomach though."

The snake slowly disappeared within the grasses. 

"Are you ready to talk?"

"I was under the impression of whether you're the one who's ready to talk or not, considering you're the one who asked for space in the first place," Tom said, his tone bitter.

"Tom–" Harry sighed. "It was for the better–"

"Better? Better for what?" After being deprived of Tom's company for weeks, Harry didn't flinch when Tom's sharp gaze connected to his, if anything, he sort of missed it. "Do you honestly think it did any of us good? The fact that it was so easy to just reach out and grab you when you're right there in front of me but _can't?"_

Harry decided to change the topic. "Did you think about it? Of how you truly felt?"

Tom drew a breath, then flexed his hands in a manner of controlling himself. "Does my words even matter?

Harry reached for it, pressing his palm against the firm curves of his knuckles. "Of course."

The visible scowl on his face melted into something softer, relaxed. Tom turned his hand around and studied the way their fingers fit each other more than puzzle pieces will.

Tom met Harry's eyes, a yearning that swirled in his dark gaze. "I want you. So much that I can't breath."

"Tom..." Harry's voice cracked. "Of course I want you too." 

"Then let's be together."

"About that..." Harry swallowed, bracing the next words. "I want us to start as friends first."

"What?" The scowl was back, although it was more driven from confusion than bitterness.

"You go so fast for me that it drives me insane, you don't give me room to breath, you keep dragging me to your own tempo– and Tom, I do want you, but right now, I can't handle relationships. What I need is a friend."

When Tom looked away, expression so betrayed that Harry couldn't stop it– he grabbed his face and kissed him. 

Seconds later, Harry leaned back. 

"I'm not saying that I don't have feelings for you, I've only realize them recently– I just can't take being with someone right now. It's not what I need. But when I am ready, you'll still be waiting for me, right?"

Conflicted emotions flickered from Tom– his mouth curved into a contemplated frown, absorbing all of the information. He then settled with a disappointed pout that looked too adorable, he clearly didn't like having to wait for Harry to be ready.

"We'll take things slow, we have all the time in the world," he gripped Tom's hand, a reminder of what they can have if they simply waited.

Finally, after long periods of silence, he squeezed Harry's hand back as he sighed in defeat. "Slow. As slow as you want."

That was all Harry wanted to hear.

For once, it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, Im gonna fall asleep any minute now.


End file.
